Chapter 6 - The Grandfather Clock
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the mahogany-paneled study sounded deafening in the quiet space, each heavy second echoing like a heartbeat. Eleanor pushed the heavy oak door open slowly, keeping Lily safely behind her skirts. The room was dark, illuminated only by the pale moonlight streaming through the tall stained-glass windows. The air smelled faintly of old paper, dust, and the lingering scent of Beatrice's expensive perfume.
"Arthur said it's inside the clock," Eleanor whispered, her hand resting reassuringly on Lily's shoulder. "Stay right by the door, Lily. If you hear anything, run back to the hallway and find Detective Vance."
Lily nodded silently, her small hands clutching her stained white dress as she pressed her back against the wooden wall. Eleanor stepped carefully across the Persian rug, her eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of Beatrice. The study was untouched by the chaos of the ballroom, preserving a haunting stillness that felt deeply unnatural.
Eleanor approached the towering grandfather clock, its ornate brass pendulum swinging with a slow, hypnotic rhythm. She reached out and grasped the glass-paneled door of the clockcase, pulling it open with a soft squeak of un-oiled hinges. Inside, behind the swinging pendulum, a small wooden panel had been unscrewed, revealing a dark recess in the wall behind the clock.
Eleanor reached her hand into the cold recess, her fingers brushing against something wrapped in heavy canvas fabric. She pulled it out carefully, setting it down on the antique desk beside her.
As she unwrapped the canvas, the dim moonlight caught the gleaming barrel of a heavy, vintage revolver resting right beside a stack of old, handwritten journals.
"So, you found my little sanctuary," Beatrice's voice cut coldly through the silence from the far corner of the dark room.
Eleanor spun around, her heart leaping into her throat, to see Beatrice standing by the bookshelf with the heavy revolver pointed directly at her chest.
"Put the gun down, Beatrice," Eleanor said, keeping her voice remarkably steady despite the weapon aimed at her. "The federal audit is already public. There's nowhere left for you to run."
Beatrice laughed, a dry, humorless sound that lacked any warmth. "You truly believe the law can touch me? This estate has survived wars, depressions, and scandals far worse than this. And it will survive you."
May you like
Before Eleanor could respond, the study door suddenly clicked shut, locking from the outside with a sharp, echoing snap.
---
